Closer Than a Brother
by Shadsie
Summary: Mangafic. Trigun Maximum 10. ONE BIG SPOILER. Vash reflects upon his friendship with Wolfwood. No yaoi. If that bothers you, find another fic.


Disclaimer: Trigun Maximum belongs to the honorable Yasuhiro Nightow. I am making no money from this, and this vision is my own take on things, a possibility. Takes place in the timeline of Trigun Maximum volume 10. SPOILERS. This fic is one giant spoiler.

The only true way to interpret canon? No. In-character? I hope so.

Notes: I've wanted, for a long time, to write a fic exploring the Vash and Wolfwood friendship relationship (in other words, to write something centering on the two that wasn't yaoi, as that seems to be a bit rare). Also, that is how I see them – as friends, comrades, not as lovers (in the manga, as well as the anime). Some people really have a problem with this, and that gave me the "spur" to write this.

I do this because "people have many different ways of thinking," as Rem says, and because I, too, know and love the manga.

* * *

"Closer than a Brother"

* * *

I buried my best friend today. He took the risks, and I blame myself for not showing up to help him before. If only I had arrived sooner. 

Somehow, I knew that I would lose him this day. There was a feeling in my gut – inevitability, the mortality I have faced many times. We fought side by side like we had so many times before – each knowing exactly what the other would do. A glance – a glance would say everything – "Fire here!" "Dodge there!" "Duck!"

There was a profound trust there.

I knew that Wolfwood had been tempted to kill me at times – to protect the children, to save the world. I never blamed him for that. He'd known exactly what I was for a long time. He'd seen my feathers and the terrible power that they held. He'd seen me almost lose control. Yet, I trusted that man enough to turn my back to him. It was so easy for him, but he never took that shot.

The both of us fought the men who wanted to destroy everything that he loved, his home, his family – everything he wanted to protect from the beginning. I suppose I knew that we'd have no more battles together when he began reminiscing. There was no time! I shouted to him to keep focus. All the while, he kept talking like a man who was about to take a journey he would never return from. It was the same way I'd spoken to people I'd loved many times. I didn't like him talking like that.

Somewhere, in the middle of the fight, I realized something very important.

All this time, I thought Wolfwood and I were very different people – that our values and ways of life were opposed to each other so completely they could never meet. I'd thought he was very wrong and that he and I would never see things the same way. I realized, as the explosion took out the concrete wall and sent me spinning, that all along, we really believed in the same things.

There were things that we wanted to protect. There were values and truths and people we would do anything to keep safe – sacred things. Wolfwood had killed for those things and I knew that now, he was ready to die for them.

I saw in him a brother.

I saw in Wolfwood everything I wasn't able to share with Knives. I wanted to spend my future at this man's side. I wanted a friend. I wanted a comrade, and I knew that I had one. I wanted to share my tomorrows with him and knew, with a terrible feeling, that his tomorrows were over.

Did I love Nicholas D. Wolfwood? Of course I did. He was my friend. He was the brother I didn't have.

There are some who'd say I wanted a lover, but it wasn't like that. It was… more complex, perhaps. There are many kinds of love.

His last moments brought a strange kind of peace to the air. We shared a drink on a white couch, strangely standing in the rubble left over from the fight. Confetti fluttered down from the passing evacuation ship above, a gift from the orphans. It was a small token of gratitude and a profound token of forgiveness and reconciliation. He looked up, and cried as the church bell rang and confetti fell all around us both. He slumped over. His fingers went slack and the liquor bottle he was holding fell from his hands. I knew. I didn't want to believe it, but I knew.

His face… was peaceful, but mostly dead. Just… dead.

I wept.

I felt the resonance of the Ark above. My brother on his manic journey. I would not let him destroy those Wolfwood had tried to protect. I also had a message for him. He would not win. I would not let him win. I will not let him win. I worked up what was left of my strength. Sitting next to my dead best friend, I aimed and focused. I felt the light swirling around me and feathers growing from my skin, melding with my clothing. I felt life leaving me, but I also felt the blood on his cheek. I could hear his laughter at the edges of my mind.

After that, I did what I could for Wolfwood. There was a stone coffin, graven with an elegant cross. I said a prayer – more like muddled through it. I have no idea if my prayers are ever listened to, but I thought that he might have wanted that.

I cleaned myself up and wondered where Livio was. Everything passed like a dream. I did not feel a part of my own body. Everything was numb. My stomach growled. My body was telling me that it needed strength. I had to continue to protect. I had to, for Wolfwood. He would call me a crybaby… but he wasn't here anymore.

I spent some time cooking and I greeted the man who'd killed him with a smile and a plate of food. Well, it might be unfair to say the "man who'd killed" him, because that was really Livio's "other self." He searched frantically for Wolfwood. My guts twisted while I held down my dinner. He asked for our friend's whereabouts and I told him plainly that he was dead.

The grief in his eyes was unbearable. I encouraged him to eat, to recover his strength. I cooked and we ate without a word, sharing silent memories of Nicholas D. Wolfwood. We kept on eating, and eating, to fill our stomachs and forget our grief. Simple things can distract you for a moment – the grainy feel of rice in one's cheeks, the sharp tang of the juice of a fresh tomato on the tongue.

Livio wants the same thing that I want. I will follow the Ark tomorrow, as far as I have to. I have my own battle to finish. If he wishes to follow me, I will not stop him.

* * *

END 

Shadsie, 2006


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